Late May #phenology

This morning I headed off through intermittent rain showers to pick up this week's Community Supported Agriculture [CSA] share. If only it had been raining as lightly in the early morning when SiSi and I took our breakfast walk. We both got soaked, SiSi more so because I had enough sense to wear a rain jacket.

Amador farm sheds

Photo by J. Harrington

As the Jeep and I neared our CSA pickup site, we slowed and stopped briefly to let the three does feeding in a roadside ditch decide to scamper across in front of us and head into the woods. Leaving the Amador farm site, I watched a pheasant rooster strut as if he owned the place, until he decided a large maroon Jeep was too big to contest primacy. He headed toward the same ditch the does had left about fifteen minutes earlier. A few miles later, still on gravel roads, the road ditch that, weeks ago, had been full of marsh marigold yellow flowers, is now primarily green.

Several times on the drive home small flocks of Canada geese flew to or from some farm fields as if they were feeding on the corn that has popped up an inch or two after this week's rains. Although our county isn't listed as even being abnormally dry on the state's drought index, it has been relatively dry compared to several recent years, based on the water level in our back yard "wet spot." The rain has really helped.

tiger swallowtail butterfly

Photo by J. Harrington

During the post-lunch walk today, SiSi and I saw the year's first tiger swallowtail butterfly. Still haven't noticed any dragonflies around the local water bodies, but the swallows, and, possibly a bluebird or two, seem to have finally arrived and begun nesting.

Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy’s Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota

By James Wright

Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,   

Asleep on the black trunk,

Blowing like a leaf in green shadow.   

Down the ravine behind the empty house,   

The cowbells follow one another   

Into the distances of the afternoon.   

To my right,

In a field of sunlight between two pines,   

The droppings of last year’s horses   

Blaze up into golden stones.

I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.   

A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.

I have wasted my life.

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